The Spirits' Resolve
While Kim Jian slept soundly, a miniature recreation of the Santancho Nella Josa Bella Forest and the World Tree on his desk emitted a faint glow. The four spirits, who usually gathered by his side to infuse energy into his weary body, had convened separately this evening.
"Cue, cuee (A problem has arisen, comrades)."
"Kyupi. Pip. Piit (Confirmed. Reviving the undead again? Unbelievable)."
"Keeek (It's hard enough to accept that unclean beings in this world have the same rights as the living, but to defy the natural order once more by reversing the complete death granted as punishment for defying providence... )."
Born just a few months ago from a fragment of Dimension 33's World Tree, everything in Dimension 6-2—the center of the multiversal world—felt utterly alien to them. They were new fragments split from the four spirits that had dwelled within a single World Tree. Thus, they shared the memories of Dimension 33's spirits. Memories like Kim Jian's exploits leading to the planting of a second World Tree, opening a future for the elves, for instance.
But the 'common sense' prevalent in this world was another matter entirely—something they struggled to accept, no matter how much they learned from TV and other media in Kim Jian's apartment. A world where those who rejected death enjoyed resources alongside the living, even receiving greater privileges than the truly alive. Having lived with the elves of Santancho Nella Josa Bella Forest—who rejected most elements of modern civilization like electronics and magitech to preserve their way of life—everything they saw and heard here was a massive shock.
Though in these few months they'd devoured TV dramas, movies, and animations alike, as beings born from divine command, the spirits first felt not shock but outright revulsion toward actions that defied providence.
And now, their savior Kim Jian wanted to help with research extending undead lifespans? Unthinkable.
"Kyusakkyu (We must stop our savior. By any means necessary)."
It didn't take long for the spirits, led by the wind spirit, to reach a conclusion. They resolved to persuade Kim Jian and make him withdraw from this affair.
"Bii (But how)?"
The problem was the method. Spirit language didn't reach humans. Only greater spirits, called archspirits, could communicate directly with people.
"……."
The spirits staying in Kim Jian's apartment were no exception. They could understand all the languages of this world, but expressing their own opinions had its limits. This was the shackle imposed by the gods when creating spirits as servitor races. Spirits couldn't convey their thoughts to other intelligent beings through writing with their bodies or any other direct means.
"Piieeee (This is spirit discrimination!)!"
"Kyugyugyugyu (Let's form a union and stand against the gods)... ."
The wind spirit sighed, eyeing the earth and fire spirits spouting nonsense. Those two had picked up weird ideas from the news again and were rambling.
"Piipipipipika (There must be a way. If we follow along on this 'site inspection,' we could prevent our savior from making a foolish mistake)."
"Kyut… (Good idea, brother. Our savior's smartphone has a case carved from a World Tree fragment. If we hide inside... )."
"Bii (No. He'll surely notice and try to hide us. I have a better idea—listen up)."
The water spirit, playing the role of strategist, lowered its voice and explained the idea it had come up with.
"Pipkyu (Indeed, with that method, we could even stage a show of force)."
The spirits moved quietly. Possessing objects freely was child's play for them, and slipping into the internals of the Colossus Mark 2 decorating the living room center was as easy as breathing.
*Whirr!* The Colossus's eyes glowed rainbow hues, empowered not just by monatomic gold but now by the four great spirits as well. Yet Kim Jian, deep in slumber, noticed nothing.
The day of the site inspection arrived.
I'd received no notice of companions until the day before, so I left home with a handful of unease. Inside my bag was the Colossus Mark 2. For obvious reasons: to counter any potential crimes.
"…I pass on anything like last time putting my life at risk."
Specifically, Dr. Bernard had warned that professionals might gather in protest outside the hospital, instigated by someone.
I'd once experienced the ancient elves' 'warm' welcome during my visit to Dimension 33 with Elama. If a fanatic from some religious extremist group was mixed in among the protesters this time, they might attack us inspectors here for the loan review. With unknowns abound, maximum preparation was wise. Having a battle-ready transforming mecha robot in my bag made me feel a bit more secure. Maybe just me, though.
It was 6:30 a.m. Having left early, I'd crossed to Kikiwai Island ahead of time and met up with Irool Hinea, who'd been staying at the Larryert Kikiwai, to have breakfast with Isaac—the three of us.
Isaac wasn't joining the inspection, but he seemed aware we'd dragged ourselves into a headache of a mess, eyeing us throughout breakfast with pity he could barely contain.
"Don't look at me like that—makes me wanna puke."
"…Your fellow trainee's career could go up in smoke in one go. If you're not worried, you're a psychopath."
"……."
Saying it right in front of the person involved showed this guy's consideration was zilch too.
"It's fine, Brother Jian. Our Lord will guide us on the righteous path."
Irool wasn't much different, spouting baseless optimism. How many gods were there in this world anyway? Angels' arrogance was something else.
If their god truly guided paths, the world wouldn't have gone crooked to begin with. The angels' creator, like other gods, had abandoned intervention, leaving creations' free will unobserved. The one difference? Unlike others mingling among mortals, he didn't.
"Whatever. We just go, report what we see and hear as is. The accompanying tellers will too. We'll consider a few priorities, sure."
"Priorities, huh... ."
Isaac murmured softly.
"Heard a child's life is on the line."
"Yeah. Some bizarre condition afflicting only undead who've died and returned once. Something about the soul dissipating. Research success means revival, but details are hazy."
"Loan approval saves the kid, but might hit the bank hard overall."
"They say if this research succeeds, even riskier ones pop up everywhere, and everyone wants necromancy procedures."
"Isn't that overstretching imagination?"
"Who knows. Fear of the unknown, maybe. What do you think, Irool?"
"Hm... Undead are loathsome; we should dismember and exterminate them all, right?"
"……."
Isaac and I exchanged glances. No clue why HQ sent this nutjob on inspection.
Irool might get mobbed in Dimension 16 for loose lips.
"Haha. Don't look so grave, brothers. Just kidding."
Irool grinned cheerfully.
"True, war-era teachings were like that. But now we acknowledge undead as fine societal members, so rest easy. Even diocese leaders teach kindness toward them now. They say undead are pitiable, ineligible for high heavens or hells upon returning to ash."
A nearby undead diner, eyes wide, stared at Irool. Unlike Razma's deputy manager, she'd lucked into cutting-edge necromancy, looking barely different from the living—senses intact too, judging by her normal eating.
Yeah, minimal visual gap meant less revulsion. Living as such undead, extending lifespan, didn't seem half bad. That thought crossed my mind.
"Ah, no, that's not it."
I shook it off. People should live and die properly, heading to the afterlife. No desire to upend my lifelong worldview with this world's new concepts.
Not that I wasn't scared of death. Just skeptical of necromancy letting one linger risk-free.
Could undead truly stay forever sans drawbacks? Was forsaking the unknown afterlife for imperfect earthly immortality best? What if death's beyond was more wondrous than imagined?
Questions chained endlessly, answerable only by true returnees from death. I gave up thinking.
Sure, post-arrival I'd ditched most old common sense, but views on life and death? Never deeply pondered back home, unchanged even after multiversal migration.
"Anyway, personally, hope for a win-win. Too young to die is tragic; kid lives on, bank unscathed."
"Brother Jian's greedy."
"…Maybe from my painting days. Got that idealistic streak."
"Still, I support such a brother."
Irool smiled, tilting his head—trademark long locks swaying, sparkling.
"…Dunno how angels end up more realist than humans."
Not much I could do on this inspection anyway. We finished eating, rode Isaac's car to the outpost.
As expected, Elama led us. I checked docs per his orders.
But standing before the Dimensional Gate post-prep, an inexplicable chill hit. Glancing back at the unease, there stood Razma, deputy manager.
"Why are you here, sir...?"
"I'll join today's inspection. Research on undead, of all things—not just anyone."
What? You're not even in personal loans... Private banking sector, why...?
Smoke swirled in Razma's head; no guessing his thoughts. Probably representing guC board yes-votes.
"……."
Either way, this loan felt increasingly politicized inside and out the bank. All I could do was worry.